


Aftershocks

by Vaitris



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Gen, Gender-Neutral Runner Five, Hurt/Comfort, Mute Runner Five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4560711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaitris/pseuds/Vaitris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things that all the forgiveness in the world can’t fix. Luckily for Runner Five, absolution comes in many different forms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftershocks

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit of language, non-graphic violence, spoilers through season 3.

Five wasn’t fond of taking a backseat to anyone that wasn’t officially a runner. Maybe because trouble seemed to find them so much easier. Or they weren’t trained. Or that they had a tendency to take Sam’s direction as suggestion only.

“I thought you said this wasn’t very far? I don’t have any cameras way out here.”

“Relax, Sammy.” Assured the runner in front of Five. “I was trying to keep the cache a secret, right? Couldn’t put it too close to your township. Or anyone else’s.”

Five’s companion today was a man named Clayton. He’d turned up at Abel seeking refuge and protection during New Canton’s war march. He wasn’t from the larger settlement, but apparently he’d been passing by when his small group was attacked and separated by a group of zoms stirred up by Moonchild’s army. And damned if he didn’t fit Abel like a glove right down to the man-child mentality. He was hosting game nights in the rec room now.

You didn’t need to know Sam as well as Runner Five did to read the annoyance in his voice. “My name is _Sam_. Just because you beat me at Scrabb doesn’t mean you get to call me whatever you want.”

Scrabb – like Scrabble but missing all the G, L and E tiles. Sam had taken that loss hard and had already arranged a mission for Five to go find him a good dictionary.

“The way I see it, I can do what I want.” Clayton laughed. “At least till you beat me.”

Sam sighed. “Guys, I think you should turn around.” It was clear he was still chafing, despite the change of subject. “We don’t know this area that well. I’d feel better if you came back with some backup.”

“We’re almost there.” Clayton waved off Sam’s apprehension through Five’s headcam, then pointed ahead. “It’s just past that wall.”

Whatever the concrete wall had been protecting was long gone. Five could see through a sizeable gap and over the crumbling top that there wasn’t anything but more forest on the other side.

“If I remember right…” The man pondered, slowing to a stop. “There may have been some marmite in there.”

“There what?” Sam’s tone turned around completely. “Are you sure?”

Five chuckled breathily.

“I think so. But there’s one sure way to find out.” Clayton poked his head through the gap in the wall, scanning for the undead, before crawling through and waving Five after him.

“Okay. But make it quick. Janine wants to-“

Five caught movement in the corner of their eye but was too slow to react. Pain exploded across the back of their skull. Their knees turned to water and the woods pivoted sideways as they dropped, their headset sliding off on the way down. The runner could feel the forest floor grinding into their side and their cheek. Forms swirled nauseatingly across their vision. They reached out belatedly, searching for their link back to Sam and Abel township but distances had become too unreliable to coordinate such a simple task.

A shadow detached itself from the lee of the concrete wall and approached. Another quick blur the only warning the runner had before a boot caught them in the stomach, driving all the air out of their lungs and all the color from their vision, forcing everything to black.

Five came awake with a flush of panic. Mission! Sleep. Unconsciousness? It took a moment for everything to piece itself back together. Pain was clouding their mind. And not just from the knot on the back of their head, or the bruising on their stomach. Their shoulders and arms echoed hurt as well. Something terrible had happened, Five had never woken up outside the walls of Abel before, unless they had been safely within shelter of some kind. Now they were out in the open.

And they were upright.

Carefully Five lifted their head, pivoting on a neck that voiced its displeasure with a sharp ache, and squinted into the sunlight. Above them, their hands were bound together with a thick rope, the slack between them looped over a thick tree branch so they hung suspended. With enough effort, they could just barely hold their own weight on the very tips of their toes. It eased the pain in their shoulders and made their hands tingle with returned circulation.

The rope hung from a thicker section of the branch overhead with about four feet and a multitude of smaller branches between the runner and freedom if they attempted to slide off. They tried to pull their hands loose only to find the rope too snug and as rough as sandpaper, chafing their skin red. The tree bark was coarse enough that it might abrade the rope into giving with enough work, but Five’s early efforts only earned them a ring of blood around their wrists.

They looked around as they squirmed. The trees were sparser here, the clearing in front of them was mostly claimed by a large two story cabin. Not the traditional log type you see in movies, but one with dark wooden siding and a modern porch ringing all the sides but the back facing them. A small window on the main floor was dimly lit and Five thought they spotted movement within the building but the strong sunlight and likely concussion made details difficult to discern. Otherwise, the runner was alone.

Where was Clayton? Was he strung up too? Somewhere just out of sight? Not for the first time Five wished they could make some kind of noise. Call out. Whistle even. But they’d need their fingers to make any worthwhile noise.

The sound of a door cracking against its frame echoed through the woods and sent a bird into startled flight. Five heard boots crossing the wooden porch before anyone came into view around the corner. There were three people, two men and a woman. The two youngest, maybe somewhere in their twenties, dropped off the porch and stood to either side allowing the third man to approach Five and block their view of the cabin. He was much older, but his bearing and strength spoke of someone younger than he looked, and the runner guessed the lines on his face came more from stress and pain than actual years. As he advanced he didn’t altogether stop before Five, but completed the action with a swing of his fist, cracking his knuckles on Five’s jaw and slamming their teeth together.

Five’s head rang and they swung wildly. The runner kicked out in retaliation, no real idea what they were aiming for, but just wanting to make him hurt in return. Their foot caught on something, was captured in the man’s hand, and they were spun. The rope twined around itself, cinching so tight around Five’s wrists that pain choked out every other sensation.

The man grabbed Five’s shoulder and held them there, a good few inches off the ground now, gasping and trying vainly to ease the pinched circulation that was turning their hands red and swollen.

“You don’t know me.” The man began, leaning in close. “But I know you very well.”

He gave Five a little push before letting them spin back round to face forward. The runner lashed out for the ground, finding their tiptoes and straightening as much as possible. They flexed their fingers carefully, trying to bring the blood back.

“So don’t think you can lie to me and tell me you’re not guilty. This is not some case of mistaken identity. I _know_ you, and I’d never forget your face.” The words were ground out in a growl. He was not taking pleasure from this, but that sure wasn’t holding him back.

Five glared.

This only seemed to anger him more. “You killed my wife! And Clayton’s sister! And their father!” He glanced to the young man and woman. “So many more people! Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

The runner tried to harden their stare.

For a moment the older man’s face fell, and he ventured tightly, “Do you even know why you’re here?”

“They can’t speak, Robert.”

That voice was familiar and the realization hit Five almost as hard as the older man’s fist had moments ago. Clayton watched from the porch, leaning casually on a baseball bat like he was watching a sun set instead of an interrogation. He stepped down, eyed locked with Five’s. “I should have known how easy it would be to gain Abel’s trust once I figured out they were stupid enough to make a mute their Head of Runners.” He scoffed, stopping just short.

Anger grabbed the reins and Five put all their weight on their wrists in order to thrust a foot out again. The older man, Robert, was the only one in range but this time they caught him by surprise, landing a blow with a very satisfying thump. He doubled over and staggered a step away, breath coming out with a whoosh. Clayton’s brow creased, his face twisting into a snarl, and he stepped forward to dig the end of the bat hard into Five’s bruised ribs.

Didn’t matter, Five had gotten what they wanted.

They dragged their feet through the dirt and leaves, slowing their sudden pendulous swing, trying to figure out how to breathe again without doubling over.

“You little fuck!” The older man wheezed. There was so much venom in the words that Five momentarily lost focus on their throbbing stomach wondering what sort of hatred they’d been born of. Clayton looked like he wanted to strike out again, but the other man stopped him.

He took a moment to calm himself, glaring at Five as he returned to his full height. “It doesn’t matter. You know what you did. Let me remind you.” The words were low and wary.

Robert stepped far enough out of the way that Five could see the back wall of the cabin again. What Five’s eyes had been too fuzzy and sun-dazed to see before was now clear. Carved into the wood and taking up every available inch of space on the first floor were names, some small, some big. The man stood quietly, allowing Five to absorb it all.

Something caught the runner’s eye. _Albert Goodall._

Oh god. A shiver ran down their spine.

“There are two things I will never forget about that day.” Robert paced, all caged fury. “One is my wife, leaning over the railing of the Artemis. She’d lost a leg, you see, and couldn’t get to the life boat in time. If any of us were going to live, we had to leave her.”

The way Clayton’s expression tightened made Five think that Robert’s wife and his sister had been one in the same.

“I nearly threw myself out of the boat as we rowed away.” This time the older man canted a glance towards his partner. “You can’t even imagine the hate I wake up with everyday, knowing that I survived instead of her. The second,” He continued immediately, as though dwelling might mire him down and render him unable to go on, “was seeing you swimming away.”

Robert walked over to the wall, admiring it like anyone else might admire the a piece of fine art. He raised his hand and traced the name “Marie” as if there was still something left of his wife in the carving. Five watched his face soften, recognizing the sort of soul-deep sorrow that only comes from losing a part of your family. And it wasn’t hard to understand, the runner had only to imagine what they’d feel if Maxine had still been on the flotilla when it’d detonated.

Then Robert turned and suddenly there was no longing left to be seen, only hard angles and fury. He grabbed the baseball bat from Clayton and strode purposefully up to Five.

“Time to pay.” He whispered. And swung.

<><>

“No, no, no, no, no!”

Sam could see the slanted woods through the headcam and the furrows in the dirt where they had dragged Five away. He stormed across his desk, trying to find all the maps and information on the area that Abel owned. It was a relative dead zone as far as buildings went and not very interesting when you’re looking for supplies to survive the apocalypse. It had been settled once in Sam’s memory, but the people never stuck. Too many trees and zombies and bears.

He found a tattered map at the back of the desk and pulled it out, sweeping a pile of papers onto the floor as he did. It had seen better days and was more out of date than most things could be expected to be once civilization stops moving. Unfolded, it covered most of the desk and most of Five’s screen where a fox was nosing at the discarded headset.

“Mr. Yao,” Janine had let herself in. Sam called her in the brief and intense moment of panic right after Five’s disappearance. He’d also contacted Jodi and Paula, who were already out in the field and nearby, and directed them to Five’s last known location after confirming they were armed. “What do you mean you lost Runner Five?”

He was out of breath. “It was a trap. They kidnapped Five. Clayton and-and someone else.”

Janine’s face softened from grim to concerned. He’d forgotten how often “lost” was used to describe a more permanent sort of gone. “Tell me everything you know.”

In catching her up to speed, his other runners had time to retrieve Five’s headset and begin a widening search through the woods. It could have been a daunting task, but the trail Five’s abductors had left behind was a good, if foreboding, start.

Janine was in the middle of something about grid patterns and hailing New Canton when Jody interrupted. “Sam? We found something.”

The map was pulled aside and more papers shoved off the desk so Sam could see Four and Twenty-Three’s headcam views. The two runners were on the edge of a clearing, looking down into an especially clustered horde of zombies.

“Is that a noise maker?” He asked, pressing his headphones closer to his ears as if that might make the sound easier to hear over the chorus of moans.

“Yeah.” Paula confirmed. “It looks like someone tied it to a stake and left it here.”

“Don’t get too close.” Sam warned, quite unnecessarily. “Where are you?”

“About a mile north of where you told us to start looking.”

Janine stepped up to the microphone. “Any sign of Five?”

“Only zombie tracks.” Jody was walking the edge of the clearing, camera ping-ponging between the zombie crowd and the soft ground. The dirt had been beaten down flat, not a track to be seen that wasn’t most of a shoe, bare feet, or something else slightly decayed.

Sam’s worry deepened as he scrutinized the monitors, but he said nothing.

“Keep searching.” Janine directed. “And be careful.”

<><>

Five swam back to wakefulness. They felt shattered. Every bone must have been broken, every part of their body cried out. Just opening their eyes seemed to take a monumental effort, but that may have been because one was nearly swollen shut. Sunlight stabbed at them, making their eyes tear. Not much time had passed, they realized dimly.

Pain rose and fell in their chest with every breath. Something was broken inside. Most of the blows had landed about their stomach and back, a few meaningful ones were scattered along their arms and legs. Nothing peripheral seemed to be broken, but with the pain sparking back and forth from wrist to ankle it was difficult to be sure. Someone may have hit them in the head again too, but Five was having trouble recalling exactly. That alone was probably an indicator someone had.

Each one of the strangers had taken their turn, including Clayton, then left the runner alone at some point during their insensibility. It wasn’t hard to guess where they had gone even without the rifle now peeking out the tiny back window watching Five with a dark unblinking eye. Maybe they were waiting for Five to regain consciousness so they could continue their torture. Or maybe zombies had forced them away.

If that was the case, why was Five still alive?  
  
Come to think of it, the zoms had been suspiciously absent since the whole thing began. Conveniently so. What was going on? Was there a wall hidden out there in the trees that Five had missed? Would they be able to find the door? Would they even be capable of climbing it if they escaped? Something that was either sweat or blood trickled down the runner’s back.

Five didn’t want to die.

Their eyes strayed back to the wall with its haunting list of names. So many. So, so many. Maybe the question was, did Five deserve to live?

But then they regarded the strangers huddled somewhere in the cabin. Waiting. They would notice Five soon enough, if they hadn’t already, and return. The thought shook Five with shivers of fear.

Rolling their head up from their chest, they gasped at the pain that tightened around their neck and seized their head in a constricting grip. The forest swam for a moment, nauseatingly green. Five hated green.

Their hands were numb and pale above them, wrists dripping thick rivulets of blood. Five rested their head against one unfeeling arm, waiting for the world to still. There might be enough slack in the rope and enough blood to lubricate that Five might be able to slide their hands out and escape now. Fumbling around like the world’s worst ballerina, Five managed to get the tips of their toes beneath them and lift. Their bonds, the fibers stiff with blood and sweat, eased enough for circulation to begin again. And with circulation came a steady flow of pain. The runner wiggled their fingers, gasping and sucking in breath, and tried to pull them free.

The rope seemed to tighten unfairly, latching on with a terrifying grip. It felt like Five’s skin was tearing, bare muscle rubbed raw. For a moment, the runner couldn’t breathe. Their lungs were paralyzed.

It was too much. They let go, their shaking legs sagged almost immediately to replace all the weight on their wrists. Five cried out soundlessly and staggered as they tried to get their feet beneath them again.

The entire time, the rifle never so much as twitched. It was enough movement that anyone training the weapon on them might have adjusted it just in case. Five panted and shivered, trying to adjust their stance so their wrists were only in pain not agony, and squinted toward the window. It was hard to tell who manned the gun, the room beyond was enfolded in darkness. But the way the sun slanted now, lighting up the yard on the other side of the cabin, made it easy to see right through the building. Unless the watcher was ducking out of sight to one side or below the sill, there was no one there.

Huh.

Maybe they could still try to slide off the tree limb. If they were very careful about it, there was a slim chance at escape if they could get enough movement out of their hands to break all the smaller branches that stood in their way. It was risky, it was tedious, and it was bound to be painful. But if Five wasn’t going to get shot for trying, it was worth it.

They glanced up, assessing their plan, feeling their pulse in every intense throb of their headache. Then they noticed the break. The main branch showed a jagged bolt of white flesh where its dark bark had split. That had not been there before, Five was sure. Apparently more than just the runner’s ribs had cracked earlier.

A different plan in mind now, Five clenched their jaw in determination. It wasn’t just the very tips of their shoes dragging against the dirt now, they could balance on the balls of their feet. But they still needed just a little bit more.

Five jumped and pulled. It was an awkward, painful thing. Their arms screamed as they flexed for the first time in several hours, the muscles twisting and cramping. The runner bit down hard, grinding their teeth as they rode out the tide of pain. If they’d been able to speak, everything would have ended there.

Through watering eyes they could see no movement from inside the cabin. Relief eased their shivering a bit. The branch above had a bit more give now too, but still not enough to stand comfortably or maneuver off of. Knowing they were close, so desperately close, they tried again.

The limb cracked open, raking Five’s face and arms with spindly branches as it dropped them to the ground. The hard packed dirt shoved all the air from the runner’s lungs, setting off fireworks of agony that ricocheted through every part of them. Their vision grayed and they gasped pathetically. Leaves wafted gently down, shaken loose by the snapping of the branch, but everything was surprisingly quiet except for the roar of Five’s heart.

The runner rolled on to their side, stones and debris digging cruelly into their bruised flesh. There was no relief here. There was no time to waste. The thought crawled through their mind that maybe they should get to their feet when the porch door cracked against its frame on the other side of the cabin. Footsteps echoed off of wood, running.

Terror and dread and danger shot through Five. They scrambled to their knees, dragging themself through the grass till their feet could catch up. Then they staggered on, half running and half limping, trying to stay upright long enough to escape as the thunder of a rifle chased through the woods after them.

<><>

“Here’s another one, Sam.” Paula pulled the stake out of the ground and examined it. A noise maker, as expected, rigged to a timer and crudely tied to the picket. The zombies had made a mess of it, bumping and grabbing, but the device seemed to have done it’s job because the timer sat at zero.

Sam marked it on his map. He’d had enough foresight to take note of the first and now they had the two dots in a line north of Abel. Leading away? Why would someone put these out here then abandon them? “They have to be keeping the zoms away from something.”

“Possibly an escape route.” Janine commented, still on comms with New Canton. As soon as the search had passed the three hour mark, they figured backup was necessary. Even though New Canton was still in the midst of rebuilding and had little interest in sacrificing man-power for one of Abel’s wayward runners when Five’s name was dropped, however, there was suddenly a lot more cooperation. The only problem was, they were even further away than Abel from Five’s ambush point.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Following the line further north didn’t get Sam very far, it was very empty country. Noise makers would have to be dropped every half or quarter mile or so to make a clear enough path to escape on foot. There had to be something else, something closer.

He traced his finger in a spiral on the map, eying a larger and larger area, trying to figure it out. Within jogging distance, even burdened jogging distance because (Sam reminded himself with a shudder) the last time he’d seen Five was unconscious, there were several structures with fortifiable potential. An old ranger post, a cabin, and a long abandoned dried out petrol station. All were about the same distance from the north-south line of the noise makers. Some were further from Abel than others. “Janine.”

She dragged herself away from the microphone to look at what Sam was pointing out on the map. Her expression sharpening in resolution told him all he needed to know. “We need runners.”

Four and Twenty-Three had been out for hours now, it wasn’t fair to ask them to go further. But Sam had an inkling that if he asked them to, they wouldn’t say no. And they were closest. But he wasn’t splitting them up to go alone, it was too dangerous. He explained as much in about twice as many words to Janine while pawing through the clutter that hid his desk, pulling up the roster that had been lost at the bottom of the pile. Most of the runners were on the injured list or rest break but there was at least one that was still fresh.

He called out on the comms. “Runner Six!”

“You’re not sending Owen out there alone, Mr. Yao.”

“No, I’m not.” He pushed his chair back and reached around his desk for the fully charged headsets pegged to the wall.

“This is exceedingly dangerous.” Was it just him, or did Janine sound just a touch… concerned?

He grabbed a firearm left behind by a previous runner, briefly checking to make sure it was loaded. “Five’s my runner.” Was the only explanation he offered with a leveled glare.

And it was apparently the only one he needed. Janine nodded tightly, not exactly frowning but her mouth was set in a firm line. “Where are you going?”

Sam considered the options. Arriving too late at any of them might spell Five’s death if they weren’t already dead. He shook his head to clear the thought. They might be fine, untouched, it was still a possibility. “Jody and Paula are closest to the ranger post. Owen and I will take the petrol station. If we don’t find anything there, we’ll try and make it to the cabin.”

Another nod. “Be quick. The sun’s setting soon.”

Sam didn’t even bother to close the door behind him.

<><>

Five didn’t get far. Some part of their mind hadn’t expected to, but that was also the part they had been ignoring for the better part of an hour. It was like the trees moved to block their way, breaking a straight run for freedom into a crooked shambling flight. They dodged left and right, feet sliding in the dirt. Each thwack of a bullet hitting tree bark spurred them on faster.

Yelling filled the woods around them, barely audible over the heaving of their breath and the pounding pulse in their ears. And even though the words were lost in the rush of sound, the tone cut through everything. Robert was furious. Maybe even beyond it.

Five slipped, recovered, remembered to breathe again. The twist of their torso while getting back up set their ribs on fire and shortened their breath. If they fell now, it was over. It was all a matter of Robert or Clayton or one of their kids putting Five out of their misery at that point. They raced up a hill, aiming for the even thicker trees on the other side, but lost their footing and ended up riding down the other side on their butt. That was fine, there was still enough momentum to keep going. They just had to reach those trees.

Five stopped so hard they jolted everything into agony. The zombie noticed them instantly, had probably heard Five’s crashing through the underbrush long before they’d been visible. But it was limping heavily, most of the muscle of one leg stripped away to reveal putrid flesh and shiny white bone. Its mouth gaped open, the zombie equivalent of licking its lips, as it staggered in Five’s direction.

The runner pivoted and hurried off through the trees between the zombie and their armed pursuers, adrenaline hammering through them. But more gray shambling forms coalesced out of the woods, sliding out from behind equally gray trunks and staggering along. It took Five’s bruised brain a moment to process this. There was no wall around the cabin.

They could escape, maybe. If there weren’t so many zoms. There wasn’t enough space for anyone to slip between them, much less someone in Five’s state. Swiftly running out of options Five kept just out of their reach, looking for an opportunity sneak through, praying it would be soon. The rush was doing a barely suitable job of keeping the pain at bay and Five knew they couldn’t take much more of this.

They were also slightly lost now, their sense of direction tied up in the tree branches. Even if they escaped, it was impossible to tell what direction Abel lay in. Or any other suitable shelter. The long grass folded itself down to reveal a narrow deer path and Five took it without hesitation, wishing only for easier passage through the undergrowth. It took them uphill, then down again, before bending sharply into Robert’s back.

Five skidded to a halt too late, bowling into the older man and driving them both into the dirt and weeds. There was a clatter and Five had just a moment to spy the hand gun that tumbled to a rest further up the trail before Robert whirled beneath them and struck out. His knuckles clipped their jaw, bouncing off bone without doing much damage. But with the abuse Five’s face had already suffered, it hurt like blazes.

Five gasped, brain rattling. They resisted the urge to roll away and escape, instead trying to pin the man. They couldn’t talk any sense into him and they most certainly couldn’t fight him, not still tied up. Outrunning him was probably no longer an option either. He was strong, unhurt. Five was having trouble just focusing.

Robert bucked them off, rolling away and scrambling to his feet. “I found them!” He cried. “I found the runner!” Five lashed out for his legs, snagging the hem of his pants with both hands and pulling his foot out from under him. Robert hit the trail again with an “oomph” and reached out for the gun which lay just beyond the reach of his fingertips.

Garnering every scrap of grim determination Five called their own, they latched their hands on, giving Robert no opportunity to climb further forward. They dragged their knees under them, hissing at the dig of stones hidden underneath the grass, dodging most of Robert’s clumsy kicks. His boot found their arm once, folding the elbow in and nearly dislocating the joint. Five doubled over but grit their teeth, it was just another bruise, nothing more.

“I will kill you!” Robert gave a tremendous thrash and pulled himself from Five’s grip. He grabbed the gun but as he was bringing it around to bear, Five caught him in the temple with one of the stones from the trail. Blood spattered across the side of his head and he dropped back, wailing. He shot once, widely, before Five seized his hand and tore the gun from his grip. They rolled back off the man, holding the gun up in shaking hands, no strength to rise just yet.

“Why?” Robert’s hand was balled up against his head, trying to staunch the flow of blood. “Why did you do it? You killed so many people. No one deserved what you did to them. She didn’t deserve that.”

Five wanted so badly to explain. They wanted even more to take it back. How many nights had they lost to nightmares since then? How many days to the thought that if they had just killed Moonchild, shot her when she had been leading that zombie horde, none of this would have happened? The runner shook their head, unable to explain but not unwilling to. He had to understand.

But he wouldn’t have it. Robert surged forward, clawing across the grass towards Five, a snarl splitting his face. His hand locked around the runner’s ankle before they could scramble away, their reflexes drained by injury and exhaustion. His grip was tight enough to cut off circulation as he pulled the runner towards him, heedless of the gun leveled towards his head.

Five’s mouth opened in a soundless warning or a cry, the runner didn’t know which, but he continued on reeling them in. Their finger convulsed on the trigger, half a reaction of fear and half of pain, the gunshot ringing through the trees.

Robert’s head snapped back as his body slumped forward, momentarily pinning the runner. Finding strength in revulsion, Five threw the gun to one side and scrambled out from under him, managing to get a few steps away before trembling to a stop. They hadn’t wanted to shoot him, even if their own life was at stake. He’d been acting out of grief and pain. Five might have done the same things in his place.

Low undulating moans sifted through the wind and Five staggered away from the body, moving automatically in response to the sound more than from any rational thought. But they had sense enough to turn back in the direction Robert had come from, towards the cabin. It was the only shelter here, if these people had emptied themselves out of it chasing Five, it was Five’s only chance.

Long before the runner expected to see it, it peeked out of the trees, the front door ajar and moving slightly in the breeze. Five truly hadn’t made it that far away after all. Quashing their frustration, Five dragged themself up the porch stairs, the effort far more than it should have been.

“Stop!”

The command came from the tree line they had just staggered out of and Five wisely didn’t obey. With a burst of speed they rushed to the door, a shot ringing out as they turned and pulled it closed behind them. There was a simple bolt-style lock on the inside and Five slid that home, stepping back. Through the window near the door they could see Clayton at the edge of the clearing, beating zombies back with the butt of his rifle. But the gray bodies outnumbered him and they swiftly eclipsed him from Five’s sight. He screamed and cried, the timbers of the cabin doing nothing to block out the sound.

Five looked away, feeling faint.

The agony in their ribs turned cacophonous and they pressed a palm awkwardly to their side, hoping gentle pressure might ease the pain. But their hand met only warm and damp. Five’s heart stuttered and beat faster, if that was possible, and they looked down to see a spreading stain of blood on the side of their shirt. The bullet must have caught them after all.

Dizzier, Five sank to the floor. They meant only to sit down but found themselves laid out, half curled around the agony uncoiling within them. The fear, the fight, the desperation – it all fell away in layers, leaving the runner nauseous and unable to take more than a few shallow half-breaths.

They needed something to stop the bleeding, they realized muzzily, trying to concentrate on thoughts that danced just out of reach. The runner dragged their head along the floor, gazing about the dusty room. It was clear now why there had been no watcher at the window with the rifle, the cabin was unfurnished. No chairs, no tables, no beds, no place to sit beneath the window. The dust was heavily disturbed, showing on the floor where all the strangers had sat and slept for however many days or weeks they might have been here, planning Five’s ambush. There were blankets and boxes of old food nearby, and a deck of cards was clumsily scattered along the half wall that separated the main room from the tiny kitchen. Five reached out for the closest card, dragging it close with bloody fingers and flipping it over.

The ace of spades.

A laughed bubbled out of them, completely outside the runner’s control. _Fuck you, Sam Yao._

The action brought new waves of side-splitting agony and Five rode them out with teeth clenched and breath held. They considered reaching for one of the blankets to use as a bandage but their strength was gone. As it was, they could barely hold their hands over the wound, much less keep pressure on it. If the zombies dispersed – and how would Five be able to tell from here on the floor? – there was no possibility of escape. They were trapped here with nothing left to do but wait and contemplate what they’d done. A traitorous thought surfaced. This might be it. They might bleed out here. All alone. Five didn’t have the energy to care.

They drifted. They might have even fallen asleep, or unconscious, at some point because they dreamed, or remembered. It was the flotilla, not the sinking of it, but their first visit there. Five and Paula were dragging Maxine through narrow hallways, trying to keep tabs on which was way up while the hallway filled with water. Higher and higher the tide came and they were just reaching the staircase when Five looked into one of the adjacent rooms and saw Robert’s wife staring back.

The jolt was like falling out of bed and Five jerked awake, shivering. Had night fallen? They felt cold. But washed out sunlight still floated in through the dirty windows, illuminating the drifting motes of dust.

Half a dozen gunshots just outside the door made the runner flinch. The strangers were close. Probably finishing off the zoms before they came for the cabin. Did Five lock the door? They couldn’t remember.

Yelling. Another short staccato burst of gunfire. The sound shook the front door in its frame. That didn’t seem right, but the runner couldn’t decide why.

“Open the door!”

They were coming. The door handle rattled violently. Five curled up further, breath hitching in agony.

“Five!”

The runner froze, uncomprehending. That voice. They unwound themself slightly, good eye flickering between the door and the window. There came several more shots, tightly controlled and evenly spaced. Whose gun had that many bullets in it? The fog in Five’s mind thinned for a moment, this was someone knocking. Someone whose voice they recognized.

“Five, the door’s locked from the inside. You need to open it.”

Before they realized what they were doing, Five was dragging their legs beneath them, hissing and panting as they moved. Knees and arms trembled but barely held as the runner climbed up, swaying until they found a wall for balance. The door wasn’t that far away, it was only a matter of finding the coordination necessary to unlock it.

The bolt slid back with a squeak and Five’s hands were on the knob when it turned by itself. The door opened on its own and the runner fell forward with it, finding Sam’s arms before they hit the ground.

<><>

Sam went down to his knees, pulling Five close as he did. He was stunned to silence for a moment at the state of his runner, a mottling of blood and bruises and dirt. It was impossible to comprehend what all might have gone into creating this mess, but the ropes wound around Five’s wrists gave him a good idea. He fumbled with the bloody knots till his fingers stung but they were pulled far too tight.

“Hang on, Five.” He reached back around for the knife he carried with one hand, leaving the other tucked up around the runner’s back. Five was trembling, in fear, in cold, in pain, it didn’t matter. Sam wanted to tug them closer but was afraid of hurting them any more. A small section of Five’s bonds had been frayed thin and Sam started here, concentrating on sawing through the fibers so he didn’t have to focus on how badly Five was hurt. In Sam’s experience with the zombie apocalypse, you didn’t look like Five did and survive.

The bonds gave and he managed to slide a tattered end back through the knot, freeing one wrist and Five hissed as the rope was peeled away. Sam shifted the runner’s hand in his lap to work on the rest of the rope when Five sniffed noisily, breath catching.

“It’s okay.” He hesitated to touch, then settled for cupping a hand around the back of their neck only to find that caked with blood as well. “You’re okay.” It was a blatant lie, Five was far from okay, but they both needed the reassurance.

In response the runner shifted and their now separated hands were heavy on the back of his shirt, more tangled in the fabric than gripping.

“We’ll get you home.” Sam continued, trying to fill the silence with anything but Five’s ragged breathing.

Making it home may not turn out to be the obstacle he originally feared. On their approach to the cabin, Sam and Owen had spied a truck parked on the only dirt road leading away from the building, ready to go for a hasty escape. Now hopefully Clayton had left the keys with the vehicle and not pocketed them.

Although Clayton wasn’t far now. Sam recognized the body behind him even after it had been ripped up and partially devoured by zombies. They’d taken his head and scattered bloody pieces of him across the yard. Owen had led those zoms off with a noisemaker, taking with him a few more that had wandered back into the woods, so that the area around the cabin was clear. He would be returning shortly and the sooner the better. Already the sun was dipping behind the trees, creating long shadows and casting Sam and Five in cool darkness. The runner shivered.

The static buzz of voices caught Sam’s attention. Five slumping into him had knocked the headset down around his neck and he hastily replaced it with one hand.

“…and Runner Twenty-Three have got that second noise maker back up and working. Take them southeast, you should be able to lose them there. Sam! Why aren’t you answering?”

Sam felt a guilty blush creep up. How many times had he scolded his runners for breaking communications? “Sorry. Technical difficulties?”

“You’d better get it fixed, Mr. Yao. How’s Runner Five?”

He let the headcam do most of the talking. “Bad.” He pulled the runner’s shirt up to reveal deep purple-black bruising all down Five’s side. Five flinched and dug their fingers deeper into his shirt. “Sorry.” He mumbled again, but not to Janine. Every new discovery on Five twisted his heart a little further, bleeding it dry. He couldn’t find the words now to explain this. “It’s bad.”

“There might be some internal bleeding.” Maxine cautioned. “Is Five conscious?”

“Barely.” Sam answered automatically, processing the following questions in some other part of his mind that still wasn’t reeling from all of this. At some point during Maxine’s appraisal the undergrowth rattled behind him and he jumped, pivoting so sharply to look that Five gasped out what should have been a cry of pain. Sam’s hands tightened on the runner, but he could offer no reassurances till he knew what the danger was.

A young man stepped out of the forest, Owen trailing behind him with a gun leveled at his back. The stranger hesitated when he spotted Sam and Five, but Owen dug the weapon into his ribs. “Keep moving.”

They headed towards the porch. Sam bent over protectively as they stepped past and into the house. There was a coil of rope next to a backpack against the far wall and Owen grabbed that before coming back and handing the gun to Sam. “Keep an eye on him.”

The handle was warm in Sam’s palm and he held the young man in place with the muzzle pointed directly at his chest. While he did, Runner Six uncoiled the rope and stepped behind the young man to tie his hands. There were so many things Sam wanted to ask but anger had dried out his throat. So he glared down the sight of the gun and let that say everything.

When he finished Owen retrieved the weapon and used the extra rope to lead the boy towards a pair of the doors leading off the main room of the cabin. When he found a room with some fixtures - the bathroom - he secured the young man to the shower faucet, making sure he couldn’t escape. Sam watched him work through the reflection in the cracked mirror.

Owen returned, eyes flicking over Five. “Look at the state of ‘em. What’d these monsters do?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. Check the truck, see if there are any keys.” The comm was alive with voices in his ear. Janine directing Jodi and Paula back to Abel, the pair arguing that they should stay out to help Sam despite the fact that they must be exhausted by now. Sam offered no comment, his attention was focused elsewhere. Five had drifted off at some point, pulled down into unconsciousness by loss of blood. There was a sizeable puddle of it on the cabin floor where Five had been lying prior to Sam’s arrival. And their shirt was soaked. And Sam’s hands were covered. Trembling himself now, Sam tried to keep calm.

Then the truck’s engine roared to life and he almost cried.

<><>

Five vaguely remembered waking in the recovery room at Abel’s hospital feeling like someone had rearranged their insides. They recalled in confused snatches of memory an icy cold and a bout of retching that produced nothing but more pain clawing at their ribs and stomach. They didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel ashamed for trying to vomit in Sam’s lap until later, several days later.

Then Five experienced the world in fits and starts between waves of exhausted, drug-numbed sleep. But every time they woke someone was there. Maxine was always fussing, at the IV, at the stitches, at the cold compress on Five’s forehead. Paula would talk about her research or the goings-on in Abel or the weather. And sometimes when the runner drifted back to shore, Sam was nearby with a clipboard in his lap. He worked on the mission roster and the running schedule, decided how and when to train new runners, all the things Five should have been doing as head of runners. Despite how uncharacteristically quiet he was, he stayed close. Sometimes seated on the edge of the bed, sometimes in a chair pulled up close to the side with a hand on Five’s arm, but the touch always helped beat back the fear that sleep sometimes pulled close – fear of friends with guns, of needles and treadmills, of sinking ships and drowning.

It wasn’t until the fever had broken and the pain killers were cut back that things began to make more sense. Maxine explained to them their injuries and Five had the sense that maybe she’d made this speech several times before now. It was a long gruesome list, and one that promised to keep Five off Sam’s roster for several months. Not the news a runner wanted to hear, but she told them that they’d been very lucky. Only one broken rib and the bullet had ricocheted, losing most of its force before it had even hit Five. A direct shot would have killed them, even given the dubious condition of Clayton’s rifle.

Janine dropped by to debrief them in between long naps and once that was said and done, Five would have been just as happy to never speak of the incident ever again.  But Sam, Sam couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“They were going to let the zombies have you.”

He’d caught Five when the runner was already restless, reclining on a couple of flat pillows and picking idly at their bandages. He had appeared in the doorway looking more somber than usual, a sure sign that something was on his mind.

Sam shifted uncomfortably where he was seated on the edge of the empty bed next to Five. “If you survived, they were going to shoot you.”

Five didn’t even look up but their eyebrows creased in consideration.

“Either way, they were going to watch. That was their revenge.”

Five reached for a pen and paper on the bedside table with one hand, the other draped loosely over their injured ribs. When the runner came up short with a grimace, Sam grabbed the items and placed them in Five’s lap.

Five scribbled a few words on the pad, then tipped it so Sam could see. _I deserved it._

Sam would have paled to know the amount of guilt Five had been carrying around since Moonchild’s forced invasion of the flotilla. And despite all his efforts to console, the runner had held onto that, hating every smile they received out of pity and every minute they went with impunity. Retaliation had been on its way ever since, it was only a matter of when.

Sam’s response was as vehement as it was immediate. “ _You_ didn’t deserve that!” He hissed, grabbing Five’s arm to reinforce his message. “ _No one_ deserved that. How…? Why would you…” He made a noise of frustration. “What makes you think you deserved that torture?” He stumbled on the last word, like he hadn’t used it before.

Five wasn’t sure what to say. For them it was cut and dry. As every good deed deserved a reward, every crime deserved- _Punishment._ They scribbled again on the notepad. _For killing all those_

Sam grabbed the pen before they could finish. “People are punished when they do something wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong, Five. You weren’t in control.”

And yet people wouldn’t do anything under mind control that they wouldn’t consider doing in their right mind. That’s why Five hadn’t killed Albert to begin with, why they hadn’t shot any of the flotilla guards fatally. This was hard to reconcile with their actions in Abel. The trashing of Maxine’s lab, that was all Five. Hurting Jodi, attacking Sam - Five would have never even entertained the thoughts of these things outside of mind control.

And, yes, maybe Moonchild had tricked them by withholding the true purpose of their actions in the flotilla control room. But what had Five expected to happen? With that much security, coupled with the fact that this was _Moonchild_ they were talking about, Five had been suspicious from the beginning.

Have much of their actions had been purposeful and knowing? And how much had been Moonchild’s puppetry?

But in the end, it was Five that hadn’t tried hard enough to break free, to do the right thing.

Right?

“Five.” Sam pulled the runner’s attention back around. “That wasn’t you. You’re not a bad person. In the end, you tried to save her. She did everything in her power to make you hate her and you still tried to save her from falling.” He searched Five’s face for a response. “Of your own free will, you _tried_.”

The insistence with which Sam watched them, his utter faith that they hadn’t been in control at that or any moment, his forgiveness of everything, it was overwhelming. After a long moment, Five ripped the paper off the pad with shaking hands and handed it off to Sam.

He took it with a smile and Five tried to return it. Maybe the burden of guilt had eased finally. Whether it was because they felt they had paid their dues in pain, or whether they actually believed Sam, time would tell.

<><>

For all Five claimed that they had it coming, damage had been done. Maybe the runner didn’t realize it yet, but Sam did. He saw it in the way they eyed strangers. In how much less likely they were to engage one unless they had to. How, even unconsciously, Five put someone else they trusted between themself and a newcomer. It was hard to see. Five was normally so brazen, even fearless. But Sam had seen the runner tricked, betrayed, kidnapped and tortured and every time they seemed to bounce back with a little bit less of themselves. And it struck Sam deeply, over and over again with these reminders, how unfair it was. Five had done nothing to deserve what they had gotten, either after the flotilla or before.

By now Sam knew as much as could be known about what happened to Five, right down to the dirtiest grittiest details. New Canton had gone out the next morning to retrieve Owen’s captive and it sounded like their interrogation of the young man hadn’t exactly been kind. But Sam knew if anyone in Abel had the same opportunity it would have been far worse so he considered the boy lucky. He probably had more information now than Five did given the runner’s head trauma. Not that he’d wanted to know, even Janine had given him a look when he asked, but he had a job and it was to keep his runners safe. Something about the sheer audacity of this act frightened him but the more he knew about it, the more he felt he could head it off in the future.

But this wouldn’t fix Five. It was Janine that approached him with that answer, with a couple answers actually. And as much as he wanted to talk them over with Maxine or Paula, or both, he knew Five should hear them first.

Five had been discharged several weeks ago and Sam found them on the hill overlooking the quad. Last year Jack and Eugene had salvaged an old couch and dragged it up here to face the central square of Abel. They had fronted it with an old tube tv missing all of its components, including the screen and the backing. Sam had spent more than one evening up here with them, complaining about the quality of the programming and making up dialogue for the residents of the township that wandered across the screen. But at this time of the evening, it made a good spot to watch the sun set.

The runner spotted him on the way up the hill, greeted him with a smile that then drooped a little with hesitation. The jig was up now, Five knew he was chewing on something, and they wouldn’t let him get away until he spilled.

Sam threw himself down on the lumpy couch, taking in the cloudy horizon, letting Five’s suspicions linger as he decided where to start. He considered small talk, but knew Five wasn’t big on the stuff and decided it was probably best to dive straight in.

“I’ve been talking with Janine about what happened. About everything that’s happened.” He meant more than just Moonchild and the mind control but he didn’t want to dredge up more bad blood reminding Five about Van Ark. It appeared that Five got it though, from the increasingly somber look on their face. “We both agree, you’ve done way more than we’ve ever expected of any of our runners. No one would blame you if you wanted to…” He grabbed a breath, trying to hide his faltering. “…step out.”

As much as Sam both loathed and loved the idea, he wanted Five to give it serious consideration. Using the word “quit” made him afraid he’d get a knee-jerk reaction instead. But Five just looked at him in surprise, processing either the question or the answer or both, he could see the gears turning in their head.

“And its not just me. In fact, it wasn’t me. To begin with.” He laughed, uneasy or a little guilty, neither of which he should be. “It was actually Janine who suggested it.”

And Sam suspected that maybe she never would have if Five hadn’t gotten hurt to begin with. They’d have to do without the runner for a long while yet, and once they worked around that, well… there wasn’t necessarily any need to put Five back on the roster if they didn’t want to. “We just… we don’t think its fair to keep sending you out and making you a target. The apocalypse has been hard on everyone, it shouldn’t be even harder on you if it doesn’t need to be.” He felt himself edge towards a ramble and stopped himself there, scrutinizing Five’s face. Normally he could read the runner like an open book, but now they hid from him.

No one had ever gotten the opportunity to quit being a runner. No one lived that long. The idea of losing another Runner Five was something Sam had swept carefully under the rug before but the thought was forefront these last few days. Continuing on this path made it almost a guarantee that they’d lose Five eventually. As they’d probably lose everyone. And it was likely only Five’s accomplishments as a runner that earned them the chance to bow out. Any sensible person would take the offer, faced with what Five had already been through.

But, then again, runners weren’t known for being the most sensible. Five shook their head, an easy smile warring with the tension in their jaw.

It was the same way Sam felt, relief and fear all balled up together. “Okay, then.” He moved on, before he could say or do something embarrassing. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a tiny device and held it out to Five.

It was liberating to see their expression shift into curiosity as they took it from him and he explained. “Janine finally managed to make them waterproof.” Then, when it didn’t dawn on the runner exactly what it was they were holding, “it’s a tracker. So we don’t lose you again.”

The smile Five gave him then was nothing short of absolutely beaming.

“Yes. We’re chipping you like a disobedient puppy.” He sighed, all amusement and irony. “Glad you’re so happy about it.”

Five grabbed his hand, squeezed. _Thanks._

He squeezed back. _No problem._ Then stretched back against the couch, regarded the empty tv. “So, what’s on?”


End file.
